around her, his embrace tender and warm. “What else do you like?”
“I like going slow.”
“I can work with that, too,” he said, his breath a warm caress.
Blood rushed through her heart, and anticipation of what was to come pulsed through her as he, very slowly, leaned in to her, pausing to gauge her reaction. “Slower?”
“Maybe a little too slow,” she whispered against his lips.
Faith held his gaze, soaking in his touch, his strength and all that was Noah. She placed her hands on his chest, rising on her toes and, after what felt like an eternity, Noah closed the distance and their lips finally, finally brushed.
Once, then again, so incredibly tender and wonderful that Faith held her breath to take in every moment. It was as if she’d been starved for human contact. For someone to hold her in a way that made her feel special. Cherished.
Noah wasn’t playing this hard and fast. He was making every move between them matter. His hands ran up her back and around to cup her face, sending flutters and tingles and every other kind of feeling racing through her body. She pressed closer right as he gave a final caress of her lower lip, then pulled back.
Faith didn’t open her eyes quite yet, wanting to take it all in, save it for a rainy day. But when he whispered her name, she opened her eyes, surprised to find that they were still in her kitchen and she was still in her brother’s pajamas. Everything looked the same, but something significant had changed.
“I meant to take it slow, but then I saw the mistletoe,” he said, pointing to a strand of leaves and berries draped directly overhead.
“That’s not mistletoe,” she said, laughing. “That’s holly. And strung together it’s called a garland.”
“My mistake,” he said, with a boyish twinkle to his grin.
Chapter Nine
Santa’s Workshop had nothing on the town of Sweet Plains when it came to present production.
Overnight, Shelby and Team Elf had transformed the Tuckers’ barn into an efficient assembly line that was more suited for Ford’s new manufacturing plant than a small-town wrapping party.
At one end of the barn sat a pile of toys generous enough to grace every Christmas tree from here to the county line. On the other end was an even larger stack, all beautifully wrapped and topped with shimmering, color-coded bows that made the task of pairing children with age-appropriate gifts a little easier. In the middle were several staffed stations, each with a different purpose. There was the sorting station, the boxing station, the wrapping station, the bow station, and so on. Ending with the delivery station.
And that was only the still-unclaimed gifts.
On the way in, Faith had parked next to a line of pickups being loaded with presents that were headed to the community center, where they’d be handed out. They were already wrapped and marked with personalized tags for those kids who, as Faith once had done, had sent in their Dear Sweet letters. If a child took the time to send in a letter, then the team would go to great lengths to mark off at least one item from their wish list. It wasn’t always possible, and it wasn’t always the top item, but Team Elf took their job seriously.
“You headed to the North Pole?” Cody joked, moseying over in a pair of cowboy boots and Santa hat with MR. DECEMBER on the brim. Unlike Faith, he was dressed in weather-appropriate jeans and a T-shirt.
“Pax already used that joke,” she said. “I guess this is what I get for listening to the local weather guy.” She took off her scarf to fan herself.
It was two days before Sweet’s Holiday Shindig and, heeding the forecast’s warning of high winds and icy roads, Faith had left the house prepared for a snowy afternoon. Her getup included a heavy sweater, a heavier coat, and enough bourbon balls for those brave enough to come to a wrapping party under the frostiest of conditions.
Only Mother Nature had decided to take a little holiday joy in keeping the townsfolk of Sweet Plains guessing, gifting them with a sunny and well-into-the-sixties afternoon.
“You know the local weatherman makes his forecast based on how his goats are acting?” Cody pulled her in for a side hug and snatched her container of bourbon balls—which she’d thankfully made the weekend before last.
“Now you tell me,” she said.
“Sugar, all you had to do was hang your head out the window and you’d have thought you were